


Stealing Clothes

by Briasze



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25206409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briasze/pseuds/Briasze
Summary: It's not stealing if you return something of equal value. And it's not stealing if both parties are consenting
Relationships: Princess Bubblegum & Marceline, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	Stealing Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there :) This is my first fic...ever. I haven't even written in a long, long time, but I saw a prompt and wanted to get this out of me. Any constructive criticism is welcomed, and I hope you enjoy!

I.

It starts with hoodies.

Hoodies are innocent enough--it's easy to borrow from someone with the excuse that you're cold. And if they're being so nice as to lend you a hoodie, it's only fair that you return the favor by letting them borrow one from you.

(Could you have given back her hoodie? Sure. But where's the fun in that?)

Marceline's hoodie is dark and soft and warm, and a little too big for either of you. It wasn't hers, some old family friend left it for her as a gift, but the scent stuck in the fabric is distinctly Marceline's. That's all you think about when you wear it, anyways. You wear it so often though, the scent fades eventually. That's why you give her a pink polka-dotted hoodie of yours.

It's a snug fit on you, so it fits her comfortably, but there's a hint of midriff when she stretches. Not that you're staring. You give it to her as an even trade, but also because when the time comes to finally switch back, your own hoodie will be infused with the comforting scent of strawberries and lavender.

It's a carefully planned cycle, one you hope she notices. Unfortunately, that would be far too easy for you, and you have to work twice as hard to try and get her to notice anything at all. She's so infuriating, you wonder why you even like her, but she flashes you that lopsided grin and you remember all over again. 

You press forward, stealing jackets and sweaters outright whenever you find herself at her house, soothing the loss by substituting it with one of your own. She stops questioning how regularly you demand one of her hoodies in school because she knows that you're replacing it with the one you're already wearing. Eventually, it becomes such a force of habit, a hallmark of your friendship, that you comfortably shed the hope of her realizing your feelings for her.

That is, until she grabs you by the collar of one of her hoodies to kiss you. Not that you're complaining.

II.

Bonnibel's home becomes your second home, and her closet has gone the same way. It's become a safe and welcome place for you and your clothes, enough that you now have half the closet to your name. She knows it's a stepping stone, a way to get your clothes and other belongings out of your fucked up house bit by bit. But you can't help falling in love with the thought of something that's  _ ours.  _

You both fall in love with each other, but also with the concept of us and we and ours. You respect each other's individuality, revel in it, but there's just something so comforting and safe about being part of a unit. There's an easy familiarity in sharing your things and your space, in taking a shirt from her side of the closet instead of yours. You don her pink wardrobe under whatever layers you've decided to wear for the day, while she prefers to snuggle into your clothes for bedtime.

It's all enchanting, and adorable, and you find yourself enamored by this new life you've started to share with her. While you find yourself a little unsure and lost, you look to her and her drive and you see a future. Maybe it's a little scary, but when she wraps you up in her arms and kisses your fearful tears away, it doesn't feel so bad. 

III.

You only use this closet when you come home from college. Marceline's side has been vacated of her belongings for years now, and despite the clothes you bought to fill up space, you can still feel the lack of her in the gaps. You do your best to ignore it as you settle into your room for the summer.

You've been single for a while now, and though you and Marceline ended harshly, you hear she's moved on. Just as well, you did always wish her the best, even if any mention of her makes your chest ache. You have school to look forward to, and who cares that your summer is going to be spent at home, prepping for the new semester. 

Your wardrobe has many, carefully planned outfits, but you don't reach for any these days. Days spent at your desk mean you aim for comfort over function, and you're often found lounging in athleisure wear while reading through the latest scientific journal. You still manage to look presentable, not that there's anyone to impress. Not that you want anyone around to impress.

You know it's all a lie when you reach into your pajama drawer one night and find an old, familiar t-shirt tucked into the back. Instinctively, you bring it up to your face and inhale deeply, despite knowing the consequences. The scent of strawberries and lavender waft over you, and with it comes painful memories that settle in your chest. You're suddenly overwhelmed.

Part of you wants to slip it on, find comfort in this thing that belongs to the past. But after a few deep breaths, you reach for your phone instead and send a message to return the shirt to its owner. You ignore how your heart twists at the sight of her name. You ignore how your hands tremble at the thought of interacting with her again. Because that's definitely not what you want.

You get startled by your phone beeping. You ignore the way your nerves thrum as you read the messages.

_ You...kept the shirt I gave you? _

_ Thanks for keeping it safe...Do you wanna negotiate its return over coffee? _

_ I miss you _

You want to ignore the way your body reacts, but you can't hide the way your old smile creeps onto your face. You can't ignore the warmth that settles into your bones at the prospect of seeing Marceline again. You can't pretend that your eagerness is anything but.

But you do respond. And you pick an outfit out of your closet. 


End file.
